The Peeta Games
by Mhardman
Summary: Its the 74th Hunger Games! Will the odds be in Peeta's favour though? That is the question! Rated M for language later on, the obligatory violence as it is the Hunger Games
1. Chapter 1

**Hello my awesome reader! All characters are owned by Suzanne Colins and not by me unfortunately. I know it's abit on the short side but I'm aiming to update once a day. So enjoy, review, message. Peace and Love guys and gals x**

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_The youth of my district lined up in front of the town hall, separated into genders and age groups. Family's and spectators gathered as close as the PeaceKeepers would allow. The younger children wailing, clinging onto their parents for comfort watching their brothers or sisters or friends lining up like lambs to the slaughter. The mothers feebly comforting their young whilst fending off tears, next to the fathers who stand stone-faced dreading each a different two words which could shatter their lives completely. But not my parents. My 'mother' stands uninterested, only present at the will of my father who shakes with fear at the thought of me being taken away to be killed._

_ Looking down my row, across to the girls, I can see Katniss, standing there bold as brass looking ready to stand off our beloved President Snow in a scowling contest. Katniss, the only person I ever felt that I needed as a confidant, or at least wanted to share my feelings with, who I risked being beaten to feed her when I was so very young and who had completely ignored me at any chance she could. Every now and again her eyes flit to a few rows in front where her sweet little sister stands stiffly with what looks like a tail of material poking from her skirt. Primrose Everdeen. Now there's a name that could make me smile on any other day but this. Always talking her sister into going looking at the cakes in the window of my family's bakery, gazing in awe at my decoration of them. I can't stand the thought that little Prim could be taken away from our district. It would be like snipping the head off the final rose after the rest had withered away._

_ Our district escort has reached the podium which is flanked by the two large glass bowls, filled with the names of the innocent. Her pale white skin eerily glows in the sunlight, blood dripping from her long, weaponised nails, and from the corners of her mouth. Eyes as black as night glinted in the sun as she begins to twist her mouth into a terrifying smile. "And this years male tribute is," she booms, spitting blood with every word, "Peeta Melark."_

I wrench my eyes open to stare at the blackened ceiling of my room. The bed beneath my drenched in my sweat, the moisture in the air causing my lungs to struggle. 'It was only a dream' I begin telling myself, only a dream. My breathing slows back down to a normal pace. Sitting up, resting my head against the wall, my eyes slowly become more accustomed to the pitch black of the night. Absorbing the view, my mind begins to catch up with the present.

The plain white shirt, black trousers and polished shoes sit neatly folded on the chair in the corner if the room, elevated as much as possible from the floor cover with the coal dust that seems to permeate everything in the district. My simple sketch book of old scraps of paper that I mulched to make clean pages, to be filled with my drawings of the constrained beauty of the district rested on the corner of my dressing table next to my charcoal and crude paints. A pale pink primrose seen through the mesh of the fence, small children playing happily in the streets in clothes barely clinging to their malnourished forms. My promise to myself is to capture the image as it is but not to separate it from its context.

There is no point to trying to sleep again now. I can see the beginnings of sunrise in the light blue sky on the horizon. An idea springs to mind briefly, so I dart out of my thin sheets, to my other chair at the window, snatching my book and charcoal as I go. One last image to capture before what could be my final day here begins. Immediately my hand takes to the paper, recording every detail of the district, the blackened houses, the smoke of the mines in the distance, the corner of the Hob to one side. Just as the sun peaks the horizon, I start layering the paint stroke after stroke, building the colours and textures of the world before me. I set the book aside to dry as I finish, leaving the remaining few pages to be filled another day hopefully.

Time to begin my preparations for the reaping, for one must look ones best for the Capitol. Silently as I can, which isn't very silently if I'm being honest, I tip-toe down the stairs in just my old pair of briefs, towards one of the ovens. After filling it with coal, I fetch a few large buckets of water and place them on top of the ovens, and also light the oven. After giving it enough time to heat up, in goes a tray of bread dough that had been set aside to rest the night before. My reasoning being, I may as well attempt to get on my mothers good side for one last day by making a few dozen loaves before she awakes.

The district sleeps later on reaping days due to the miners not seeing the point of working so early on a day like today. Donning a rough pair of shorts and an old shirt, I head out for a morning jog around the town, then around the seam, and then around the edges of the district, collecting a satchel full of summer flowers to turn into paints. As well I collect a bowl of blackberries from a small bush that I had found and replanted in a hidden part of the district. As I approached the town-hall again, I took a route around to the back door where Madge was already waiting in her night gown.

"What a beautiful sunrise this morning Peeta, did you catch it?" she asks with her head cocked slightly to one side.

"How could I not Madge? I have your blackberries, as usual, miss Undersee," I respond smiling with a sarcastic curtsy to top it off.

"Why thank you mr Melark, how kind of you," she says with an over enthusiastic bow. I pass her the bowl of blackberries and she handed me a silver coin in return. Realising her over-payment I say,

"Madge, we talked about this. It's just too much. I'm happy with just a a couple of coppers."

"I refuse to give you any less, so go and buy that set of paints you wanted," Madge retaliates. A smile creeps back onto my face and I lean in to hug her. As per usual, she leans in to try to kiss me, but I just turn my head to the side to avoid it. I can't tell her, not yet, she'd hate me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello my reader :) We're still not at the reaping yet but I promise to add the reaping later today :)**

**A big shout out to 'When Boredom Takes Over' for being my first reviewer, you aresame some my friend!**

**So, yeah, enjoy, review, favourite! Peace and Love guys and gals x**

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Leaning back from our embrace, I can see the disappointment in her grey-blue eyes. Another foiled attempt.

"I'm sorry Madge, I have to get back. I'll see you at the reaping?" my feeble attempt at breaking the silence seems to have prevailed.

"Sure Peeta, may the odds be in your favour," I see Madge's face fall slightly, despite her bubbly reply as she turns back to the door. I shutting her out like that. I feel as though I'm betraying her but I don't feel safe telling her the truth, I mean she is the mayor's daughter after all.

Along my walk home beneath the morning sun I remember what Madge had said as she had paid me. Instead of taking the left to the bakery, I continue straight down the main road and take a right down a worn path towards the Hob. Even on a day like today the Hob is busy as early as usual. The only difference being the more somber tone adopted by both vendor and customer, items going for cheaper than usual which is to be expected. On reaping days, the whole district feels more closely knit.

My target is a middle aged woman by the name of Hazelle Hawthorn, she occupies a tiny stall next to Greasy Sae's. The small table she uses is filled with various paraphernalia of varying sizes, shapes and uses. Tucked away under the various semi precious stones that her husband had found in the mines before the accident, was an old and battered box of paints, or at least it was the last time that I visited.

"Hello Ms. Hawthorn, do you still have that set of paints from last month?" I inquire, adopting a similar tone to the other occupants of the Hob."

Good morning Peeta dear, yes, the paints have not been sold yet, but I'm afraid my asking price is still the same at one silver piece." She manages a weak smile after her response, obviously she still assumes that I won't be able to afford the box. At the thought of helping her sell something for such a high price mingled with the thoughts of the many shades that I could procure from the set, I can't help my face from breaking into a wide smile.

"Well, today is your lucky day then Ms. Hawthorn. I would like to purchase the set for one sliver piece." Still smiling I procure the coin from the recesses of my pocket and place it on one of the very few patches of empty space on the table. The look on her face is priceless, shock mixing joy, causing her the burst into a huge grin with the hint of a tear in her eye. Without saying a word she withdraws the box from its temporary home inside a larger tattered wooden box. Picking up the money, she hands me the box.

"Thank you so much Peeta, I will not forget this," she assures me, the gratefulness clear in her voice.

"No, thank you Ms. Hawthorn, it was a pleasure doing business with you." I added after claiming the paints.

"The pleasure is all mine Peeta, and it's now Hazelle to you. You are welcome at my home any time dear," she responds, still beaming.

"Thank you Hazelle, and may the odds be in your family's favour today," I say as I turn to leave the old warehouse. As I do, Katniss and Gale pass me at the door, no indication whatsoever of my existence.

With a sigh I start back to the bakery, at a faster pace though as the bread is almost surely baked by now. Sneaking back in through the back door, I remove my shoes to put them away and test the buckets of water. The water is perfect so I quickly rinse my hands of the grime that the district has deposited on me on my walk. The bread is just finished rising so I leave it for a bit longer but move the loaves to a cooler part of the oven. Dashing upstairs to my room, I set the box down next to my sketch-book, and shed my shirt and shorts. I dart back down the stairs, hearing that one of my older brothers is awakening. I lift the two buckets down from the oven with ease and head down the small corridor shooting off from the bakery to the bathroom. After emptying the buckets into the currently empty bath, I lock the door behind me.

Finally in complete privacy, I remove my old black briefs and take a few seconds to view my sixteen year old self in the roughly made mirror. After about a minute I have begun to shiver so I jump into the bath, the water temperate and welcoming. I allow a couple of minutes to soak in the warmth before I start to clean up, slowly purging the coal dust from my pores and my hair. It is about five minutes after I got in that I begin to feel the water cool, so I take a deep breathe and plunge under the surface to remove the suds from my hair. As I emerge from the water, I quickly snatch a towel to dry myself, starting with my hair as it's started to drip water in my eyes.

Wrapping the towel around my now dry waist, I head back upstairs to dress for the festivities of the reaping. After removing the towel, I grab a new pair of briefs from a drawer and begin clothing myself. First the briefs, then socks, shirt and trousers. Picking up the shoes, I make my way back down to the back door and deposited them on the rank of shoes there. I then wander back to the bakery to remove the loaves from the oven. They have just finished baking so leave them on the side to cool slightly, except for the two least glamourous ones which I take to the kitchen at the back of the house. Cutting a few slices, I butter them and fill a mug of water for my breakfast.

I quickly quell my ravenous stomach and parched throat, setting the pots aside to be cleaned with the next lot of hot water. Once again I head back up to my room taking a seat at my window. I have about four hours to kill so I decide to catch a bit more sleep like the rest of the district before long I drift off to the sound of the mockingjays' songs from the tree across the road.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey awesome reader, don't be expecting them this close together! In the future they will be just once a day, I just wanted to get the reaping down so I could move on to the better stuffs**

**So yeah, enjoy, review, follow. Peace and Love guys and gals x**

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"Peeta Melark! Get your arse down here this instant! The reaping sign in started five minutes ago!" the shrill voice of my mother penetrates my sleep, jolting my body awake. Thankfully I had gotten changed before I slept again. Quickly registering what my mother had just said, I dash downstairs to put my shoes on. As I approach the door, mother steps out of the side room. Just as I am opening the door, she grabs a handful of my hair and pulls me close.

"You will not be late," she hisses down my ear, "Now get going you worthless creature."

Needless to say I don't need anymore encouragement. I'm soon jetting down the street until I am sure that I'm out of my mother's eye before I even think to slow down. Nasty piece of work that woman. Always been horrible to me, even when I was a toddler. Father never did anything to stop her though. As I arrive in the town square, I join the line for male tribute candidates. It seems to take forever to reach even the middle, but when I am about five or six places away from the sign-in desk, the person behind me speaks up.

"My mum told me what you did this morning," comes the rich, deep tones of Gale Hawthorn, "you knew that little box of paints was worth half of what you had paid but you paid it anyway." With only four places to go, I knew that this would have to be a short conversation.

"Well, the box seemed well loved so it had some soul to it, and the shades were exactly what I needed," I retaliate but part of me knows that what Gale is saying is true.

"Well, whatever your reasons, thank you, that can help support my family for a good couple of weeks," I could tell even without looking at him that he was smile and also that he was close to tears, his family must mean so much to him. Obviously Hazelle had always spoken very highly of him on our brief encounters, just a passing comment here and there, mentioning how dependable and reliable he is, and how he's always there to help. I'm now next to sign in.

"You're welcome Gale, I would have done it for any family who needed a bit of extra help," I can't help but smile as I'm saying it, mainly because I've just realised that this is my first conversation with Gale Hawthorn, the boy on every girl's minds. Before he can respond, I'm called forward.

"Thumb on the scanner," snaps the PeaceKeeper half-heartedly as I step forward. I feel a sharp prick as the scanner samples his blood.

"Peeta Melark, sixteen years of age," the PeaceKeeper questions.

"Yes, that is correct," I respond curtly. I hate talking to PeaceKeepers, they're just an extension of the Capitol.

"You know where to go. Next." He says as he calls Gale forward.

"Peeta, wait up a second." I hear Gale call from behind me. I spin on my heals to check if he actually said Peeta and I had not just misheard him. I find him just staring at me for confirmation, so in response I simply nod my head. The PeaceKeeper has him scan his blood once more, and then asks for confirmation the he is indeed Gale Hawthorn of eighteen years of age, to which he nods and is sent in my direction.

It's actually the first time that I've managed to get a decent eye-full of him before. Our previous encounters have been much briefer than this. His dark ash brown hair falls just above his steely grey eyes on the left side of his face, those same eyes still clouded with silent tears of thanks. So muscular and handsome and masculine, he's just down right gorgeous to be completely honest. Him clapping his hand on my shoulder breaks me from my evaluation of his body, just before he pulls me into a tight hug. It's a rather odd hug as he is towering over my five foot ten at six foot three.

"Thank you," he whispers simply to me before he vanishes to his place in line. I quickly make my way to my place but not before I catch Katniss glaring straight at me like she's trying to burn a hole in my face. I arrive at my place just as our escort and mayor emerge from the Justice building to begin the reaping, although there is no sight of Haymitch Abernathy as usual. Probably sat in some dark corner rotting in his drink.

Mayor Undersee begins by reading the same speech as the previous year, and the one before that, and every reaping before that, which reminds us of how the games are our punishment for rebelling against our beloved Capitol. The only consolation here is that he does not enjoy reading it out. Upon the completion of his speech, he invites our district escort, Effie Trinket to the stage to begin the reaping, but not before Haymitch stumbles through the justice building's doors, completely drunk, shouts something unintelligible and collapses into a chair, along with attempting to hug Effie. Effie quickly recovers and begins trotting over to the podium. She is wearing a spring-green suit garnished with small jewels. Her hair, which must be a wig of some description, is bright pink. To top it all off, she somehow balances atop a pair of stupidly tall high heels, giving the appearance of some exotic coloured bird perching on a branch.

As she reaches the podium which is flanked on either side by the two large glass bowls filled with names of the potential tributes for district 12. After a couple of small polite coughs, she begins.

"Happy Hunger games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!" she chirps in her bright and bubbly voice with her signature Capitol-affected accent.

"Ladies first," she squeaks as she claws around in the girl's bowl. I quickly glance over to the girls section and happen to catch sight of little Primrose. She is wearing the exact same skirt and shirt as in my dream, right down to the small tail of pulls out a name and carefully unfolds it with her bright pink claws. After clearing her throat once more, she says in a clear crisp voice,

"Primrose Everdeen,"

The entire district is silent, everyone knew the odds were as much in her favour as they could be, with this being her first year eligible for the reaping she would only have one entry, whereas Katniss would have four entries plus any tesserae that she had taken out. I mean, she's twelve for pete's sake! She doesn't stand a chance in that arena. That's when I hear the impossible,

"I volunteer!" Katniss screeches, "I volunteer as tribute!" she maniacally pushes her way through the crowd and in front of her sister. People volunteer all the time in the lower districts where being in the games is a privilege, but here in district twelve, it is unheard of.

"Lovely," Effie says as Katniss makes her way up to the stage, "but I do believe there's the small matter of introducing the tribute and then asking for volunteers..." then she begins to tail off, obviously unsure of the rusty protocol.

"What does it matter?" snaps the mayor in a pained voice, "Let her come forward."

"Very well," Effie responds, "What is your name sweetheart?"

"Katniss Everdeen," she replies in a near monotone voice.

"Well, let's have a round of applause for Katniss Everdeen, our newest tribute." Effie chirps happily. To their respect, no one, not one person clapped. I was a blatant act of defiance in the face of a sacrifice which should never had needed to be made in the first place.

"Well then, what an exciting day! But now to choose our boy tribute." she squeaks as she claws about in the second bowl before procuring a slip. She opens the paper slowly before reading the contents in a clear voice,

"Peeta Melark."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello awesome reader, this is where I begin to diverge from what could have happened in the book that we just didn't see and more onto what I want to happen X) Also, tell me what you think of the new Gale in this chapter.**

**I feel the need for a shout out to When Boredom Takes Over for their review of every chapter so far, you are amazing! And also a shout out to thebakerswifey for their short but welcome review.**

**Enjoy, Review, Follow :) Peace and Love guys and gals x**

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I can't move. It's like my feet have been nailed to the floor. This can't be right, it can't be me can it? It must be some mistake. I feel someone give me a slight nudge from behind. Somehow I manage to get my legs to start working and I make my way to the stage. I'm trying really hard not to show any emotion, I have to seem strong otherwise the other districts would consider me an easy target.

I arrive on stage on the opposite side of Effie to Katniss, just as Effie calls out,

"Any Volunteers for Peeta?" her voice as bubbly as ever. But of course, no one volunteers for me. Of my two older brothers, only one of them is young enough to volunteer for me, him being eighteen, but of course family loyalty doesn't stretch that far, Katniss did the audacious thing.

From some other podium, the mayor begins reading the treaty of treason to the district. It's a long and depressing piece of literature so I simply block it out, taking the time to further compose my features into a mask of indifference. Looking around the square, I catch a glimpse of my self on one of the large screens that had been temporarily erected for the Hunger Games. Thankfully my face does look emotionless, which is a miracle given the emotions coursing through me right now. Mostly the shock of being chosen, a bit of betrayal for my brother not volunteering even though I didn't expect him to anyway, and just the tiniest hint of happiness remains from my encounter with Gale.

The mayor must have finished his reading because he slams a book closed and then motions for me and Katniss to shake hands. So, naturally, we do as we're told and grip each others hand. Something tells me that she is trying to crush my hand but my hands are bigger and more solid than hers so it just feels like a tight squeeze. No matter how much I want to crush her hand in return for her attempt, I take the high road and smile at her instead. All that gets me though was a scowl as she drops my hand.

We turn back to the crowd as the anthem begins to play, booming through the large speakers. Somehow I manage to find my mother in the crowd but I wish that I hadn't because she is still radiating the same anger as earlier this morning. I can tell though that the anger is not aimed at the Capitol, it is still directed at me. I'm still don't good enough for her. The anthem finishes and so we are whisked away inside of the Justice Building.

I had never actually been in the building before, but I'm not around long to enjoy to view. I'm immediately herded into a small room and left alone. A lush, thick carpet coats the floor, the colour harmonising perfectly with the furniture made of some rich looking material, which in turn matched with the intricately carved wood panel wall. I take a seat in one of the expensive looking chairs and take the time to commit the room to memory, that way I will have something to draw on the train to the Capitol.

Now is the time when the tributes get to say their goodbyes to the family and friends who come to visit them in the next hour. Somehow I don't think that I'll get many visitors, just my family because my father will insist on seeing me, and possibly Madge. Low and behold, my first set of visitors arrives. My father enters first followed by my brothers and finally my mother. For a few moments they just stand there silent. I refused to initiate any conversation as I very literally am the victim here. Breaking the silence, my eldest brother says,

"Try not to die too quickly faggot," he spits and strides out of the room. My other brother follows he muttering something along the lines of,

"Not worth saving,"

What my mother says is completely unexpected however,

"District twelve could finally have a victor this year," she says in a monotone voice, but before I could even begin to smile, she then completes the sentence, "I hope she come out alright."

She then turns and leaves as my brother did. I'm trying to fight back the tears for my father.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" I manage to croak, "Aren't you going to tear me down like the rest of the _family_?" I spit out harshly. He still doesn't say a word, but just retrieves a parcel from behind his back and hands it to me. He then turns and leaves. Almost immediately after he leaves, Madge walks in, no longer in her night dress obviously but in a right looking silky dress. Before she says anything, she walks straight up to me and gives me a tight hug. She pulls back and holds me by the shoulders, and looks me straight in the eye.

"Peeta. Promise me you will not change. Promise you won't let them change you." she requests in a whisper. "Promise me Peeta."

"I promise Madge, I will either live or die as me." I reply still fighting back the tears from earlier. She pulls me into another hug which seems to last an age before a PeaceKeeper shows her out, leaving me alone to simmer in my thoughts.

Looking at the clock on the wall, I see that only fifteen minutes has passed, and I know that this is going to be a long hour. I then just curl up on the couch and sob into my arm. After about half an hour of wallowing in my grief and sadness, someone enters though I don't hear them until they speak.

"My mother sent me to say thank you again," the depth of the tone cuts through my misery and jolts me upright.

"Gale?" I whisper as I can't see properly due to the tears still stinging my eyes.  
"I also wanted to come and see if you were okay." the blurred figure walks over to the coach, sits and pulls me into a reassuring hug. "I'm so sorry that you have to go through this Peeta."

I just sob into his chest in response, it feels so good to have someone there for me, to have that comforting body to hold tight even for a short while.

"As well I wanted to apologise for not talking to you before today. I always saw you alone with no one to talk to but still keeping that brave face on. It was Katniss who really stopped me, she had convinced me that you were a horrible person not worth my time, but that is not the person that I see now, or who helped my family this morning." he says slowly in his rich voice. My tears seem to have dried up now and I can manage a smile so I pull out of the hug and smile at him. He smiles back but stands to his feet and walks to the door.

"I'm sorry but I have to go, your hour is up. Good luck Peeta, and may the odds be ever in your favour."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey awesome readers, I apologise in advance if this chapter seems like a load of filler, it's just I'm trying to show what Peeta did with his tiwho until supper whilst Katniss just crawled into bed and reminisced.**

**As always, enjoy, review, follow. Peace and Love guys and gals and don't forget to be awesome! x**

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Just after Gale leaves, a PeaceKeeper takes his place informing me that my hour is indeed up. I walk to the door to leave but then I remember the box from my father, so I dash back to the couch to grab it. As I follow the PeaceKeeper through the corridors of the Justice Building, some writing on the box catches my attention. It's in my father's style of writing, so really just a barely readable scrawl. It reads,

'Peeta, I know I hardly tell you this enough but I love you so very much, more than I can merely write down or tell you. You have to fight through this, if not for me, then for you. Aside from living, as a victor, you would be able to became an artist. I know it doesn't seem like much but seeing the quality of your work and the obvious amount of thought that has gone into each piece, it is clearly something dear to you. From your Father'

It seems so simple a message but I am now on the verge of tears, just because that was first time in years that he had shown such an interest in my life, let alone tell me that he loves me. We are soon out in the back courtyard where I can see a car waiting to take us to the station. And when I say us, I mean me and my PeaceKeeper friend as Katniss seems to be riding in another car. This is actually this first time that I've ridden in any form of vehicle, the quite engine rumbling away, feeling every bump in the road, it may be less glamorous but I would have preferred to walk to the station. Patches of half dead grass straddled the gravel road to the station along with a thin row of weak looking flowers.

As we approach the concrete monstrosity that is the district twelve train station, I can see Katniss' car waiting for our arrival along with the swarms of Capitol camera men an women. Next to the station entrance stands a large screen currently showing my car's approach. Pulling up next to Katniss' car, her door is opened for her and she steps back into daylight, stoney faced once again. Damn has that bitch got a heart of stone or something. My door is then opened for me and I step out to join her in her walk to the station doors. I, unlike her, am not too prideful to show that I feel, that I am still a human being, these people don't deserve the comfort of a mask from me. All they're gonna get is pure, raw Peeta and I hope it breaks their hearts.

I somehow manage a small smirk as I reach the doors. The Capitol and dearest President Snow think they're safe in their big high-rise apartments and sky-scraping penthouses. But I'm going to show them that they can't change me or censor me. I'm going to win these games and and then I'm going to knock down their comfortable lifestyles.

As I get to the platform, I cease my brooding to gawp at the train. Sleek and white, with a polished finish, cleaner than anything I've ever seen before. I quickly recover as I remember that there are still cameras trained on me. Thankfully though as we reach the doors slide swiftly open for us and then close straight away behind us shielding us from the intrusive cameras. The immediate acceleration to high speed sends me flying into the wall perpendicular to the train walls. I hear a cry and a crash from the next room where Katniss had been thrown through the door and into a table with the acceleration.

Having now hit a constant speed I can now continue to walk into the room, where I see Katniss sprawled on the floor amongst the remains of a small wooden able. Suppressing a laugh, I extend a hand of assistance, but she just bats it aside so I just continue to one of the couches. I don't have the patience to fight her pride. Out of another compartment appears a Capitol assistant to clear the mess. Katniss has since helped herself up and looking out of the window at the passing scenery.

I think that this is as good a time as any to open my box from my father. Peeling back the brown paper that he used to cover the now revealed box, but conserving the message, I can see another quick scrawl saying,

'Paint them a masterpiece'

That brings a small smile to my face, as I continue to open the parcel by lifting the lift of the box. Inside I see my sketchbook, a matchbox of charcoal sticks, my old homemade paints, my simple brush, the flowers from this mornings collection and my new box of paints. The sight almost brings a tear to my eye, I'd forgotten that I'd left all of this in my room, but thankfully my father had seen fit to make sure that they got to me. I spy an empty glass vase on a side table which I fill with water from a larger container and arrange the flowers as I no longer have a practical use for them now I have my new set of paints.

The image from earlier in the Justice Building is still clear in my mind so now is a good time to start at least drawing it out before I forget details or am needed for something. I begin outlining the frame of the room and then the relief of the wooden panels on the walls. The furniture is the next addition to the room along with the beginnings of the landscape out of the window. Soon the entire room is drawn out, well not soon because the clock on the wall says that I've been at it for an hour. Normally I wouldn't be hungry at this time but mother rushed me out before lunch so I'm famished and so my stomach has begun complaining. Looking around I spot the calling device on the wall, I believe it's called a phone as I remember Madge mentioning seeing her father on one. I walk over and remove the phone from its stand, then pressing the green button, I hold it to my ear.

"May I be of any assistance?" speaks a clear Capitol tainted voice.

"Yes thank you, I was wondering if I would be able to get some food, but I don't know where to go, I'm in the first room as you enter the train," I reply as politely as possible.

"An assistant will be with you momentarily," the voice replied, "have a pleasant evening Mr. Melark." at which point the voice cut off so I replaced the phone on its holder.

Barely a minute after the phone call a trolley is rushed in by a handsome Capitol assistant, who reminds me quite a lot of Gale.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey there awesome reader :) we're catching back up with the book's story line now so yeah :P**

**Enjoy, Review, follow, Peace and Love Guys and Gals, DFTBA x**

"Enjoy your food Mr. Melark, I'll be in the next room so just shout if my services are required." After which he then swiftly exits giving me a great of his arse until the door blocks it from sight, at which point I see the amount of food on the trolley. It is probably enough to feed a family back in district 12 for a good month or so. If I wasn't so hungry, I would have refused to eat just on the principle that these people think of a snack the way the families in district 12 would think of a months worth of meals.

All the food dishes have small labels with their names on, presumably so that I can ask for more specific food later on. There only seems to be a few hot dishes so I decide to sample those first before they get cold. The first 'dish' actually turns out to be a drink with a label reading,

'Hot Chocolate - suggested to drink with a side of bread and assorted fruit for dipping'

Taking the small ladle from next to the tall vat of the creamy brown liquid, I scoop some of the substance up and take a sip. The sweet, thick cream instantly coats my throat. Not feeling the need to test the other hot dishes, I fill a large mug which is more like a steep sided bowl in size and shape, and pick up a plate of sliced fresh white bread with strawberries in a small bowl next to it. As I head back to my couch, I realise that Katniss is not here anymore. She must have left whilst I was engrossed in drawing earlier. Retaking my place, I tear off a chunk of bread, dip it in the hot liquid. The savoury complementing the sweet perfectly.

Over the next fifteen minutes I intermittently sample my hot chocolate as I examine the paints that I have, deciding on the correct colours to use. It's then that I realise that on the lid of my paint box, it says that they are watercolours which gives me more ideas for the painting. I pour a small glass of water from the trolley and allow my brush to soak it up for a few seconds before I begin to mix my colours in the lid of the box creating the perfect tones and shades for me to use.

I then begin to fill in areas of colours, fading between shades and then finishing off with my old paints for some added texture. Thankfully the window in the waiting room was large enough to frame a large image of the district which it was in such contrast with. I finish the painting with a washed out edge to fade out the painting. It was much larger than my usual works because I have more paints to work with, so for once I have to take a step back to examine my work properly.

I set it against the wall on top of a low marble shelf. The only colour in the painting is through the window in the actual district, not the polished wood walls or lush carpets of the Justice Building, emphasising the fact that the beauty of our district is not experienced in the confines of a lavishly decorated room. At the door of the room however are washed out grey outlines of those who came to visit me, completely unrecognisable, just transparent shadows over lapping when two people had stood in the same place at different times, almost like the room had ghosts.

The clock now reads half past six so I've been painting for the best part of an hour, but in that time I had not forgotten to finish the entire vat of hot chocolate along with a loaf of bread and all of the strawberries. My hungry stomach has been sated but I'm now craving more of the hot chocolate so I call the attendant again and ask for another vat of the stuff. Once again, a matter of seconds after call has ended the attendant appears with another vat of hot chocolate which he sets down next to the couch for me.

"Excuse me, would it be too much hassle to ask you to remove the trolley? I have no need for it anymore." I ask the handsome attendant politely. He smiles, nods his head curtly and wheels the trolley out of the room.

"Thank you," I shout after him just before the door closes again.

I once again settle down on the couch for another hot chocolate session whilst thinking of something else to paint to keep my mind of the actual events of today and my situation. Looking out of the window I see that it's almost sunset behind the scenery that is darting past the window. Once again I pull out another piece of paper and a charcoal stick, starting my work again from the beginning.

After another hour, I have successfully captured the different stages of the sunset sky traveling from left to right in order of time, along with the blurred scenery which streaks across the painting. By this time, it is pitch black outside the train and the compartment's lights have long since been on. In addition I'm beginning to feel hungry again, so I pack up my things and head off in search of the dining car.

Along the way I discover my room which is almost obsessively neat, everything perfectly placed. I just set down my box of things on bedside table and head back into the corridor where I almost collide with brightly coloured exotic bird which is Effie.

"Oh, sorry Peeta dear, I was actually on my way to collect you for supper," she chirps in her Capitol twang.

"Fantastic! I was just looking for the dining car when I found my room," I respond more brightly than I intended to.

"What a fabulous coincidence! We are dining in the next cars down, I'll see you there after I've collected Katniss." she squeaks as she waddles down the corridor.

Follow Effie's instructions and walk down the corridor until it opens out into a large dining room with a small precariously hanging chandelier suspended above the large dining table set out for four people. As soon as I take a seat, a very drunken looking Haymitch stumbles through a different door which I presume leads to the train's bar, mutters something about a bed, then staggers off through the door I had just come from.

I just sit and wait for Effie to return with Katniss, which isn't long. They both halt a few steps away from the table, unilaterally eying the empty place beside me. It takes me a second to realise that they had both expected Haymitch to have already joined me at the table.

"Where's Haymitch?" asks Effie brightly.

"Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap," I reply formulating Haymitch's muttering into an alibi for him.

"Well, it's been an exhausting day," say Effie, I think she's relieved by his absence, which from what I've seen of Haymitch so far, I can't blame her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey my amazing readers :) I just want to take a second to thank all of you. I literaly started this fanfiction 5 days ago and I already have 1000 views on The Peeta Games! I seriously can't thank you all enough because I only ever thought that I might get about 20 maybe at most but you out did my expectations on the night I first published the story!**

**I big shout out to my awesome reviewers; When Boredom Takes Over, Cray-Crayperson, thebakerswifey and WholeWheatWaffles, you are all amazing :)**

**As always Enjoy, Review, Follow, Peace and Love guys and gals DFTBA x**

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Supper joins us at the table, endless numbers of courses following one after another, thick carrot soup with fresh bread rolls, I largely varied crisp green salad, with a main course of lamb chops accompanied by mashed potatoes. If I didn't know any better I'd think that the handsome Capitol attendant likes me, with his sly attempts to brush past me at any chance during the course of the meal. If anything, it's rather disconcerting mainly because he acts like a constant reminder that nothing long term could come of any relationship with my impending dressed up and televised death sentence.

The food is definitely the highlight of the meal, which may sound odd, but back in district twelve, mealtimes were always the same, a small portion of meat, the stale left overs from the bakery, with a side dish of ripping into Peeta's self-esteem and confidence. It's nice to be able to enjoy a meal for once. As we finish our main course and await our desert, Effie feels that now is the most appropriate time to start a conversation.

"At least you two have decent manners," she piped up, "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."

I'm sure that she meant it in the nicest way possible as she mustn't have known last years tributes' backgrounds, but still I feel my jaw set at the unnecessary comment. The two from last year were both from the seam, neither having ever had enough food to eat, unlike Effie, so I don't blame them that the last thing that they had thought about when presented with the Capitol's feasts at every meal time was their table manners.

I still find the reserve to respond with a thin smile to Effie, but Katniss' response was not so elegant seen as the minute the cheese, biscuits and fruit were placed on the table, she took fistfuls and completely neglected her cutlery, spreading the soft cheese with her fingers, just to get her point across. Me and Effie ignoring her display, begin engaging in pleasant conversation and eating our crackers and cheese now that she had recovered from Katniss' display. When we were part way through the course, the good-looking attendant returned with something in his hands.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I found this in the lounge compartment I thought I should return it." he informed us in that deep rich tone. He then handed the item to Effie and left the room.

Effie opened up the piece of paper, and spread it out over Haymitch's empty place which had since been cleared of its plate, glass and utensils. It's my painting of the waiting room back in our district, I must have left it on the shelf that I had viewed it on earlier. She gasps at it an turns to me.

"Peeta, did you paint this?" she asks in her chirpy voice, clearly impressed. At this Katniss snaps her face up from her food.

"Why did you assume that he painted it and not me?" Katniss snarled at her.

"Wash the cheese from beneath your nails and then ask me again." Effie snaps back at her without even turning to acknowledge her. The subtle sarcasm underlying her words shuts Katniss up and she just sits and scowls at the remains of her food.

"Yes, I painted it Effie, just after we got on the train." I reply politely, knowing how important manners are to her.

"Well it's absolutely fabulous! You simply must paint me a portrait after we view the reapings." She chirps instantly regaining her bubbly self again.

"It would be my pleasure Ms. Trinket," I reply sending my most charming smile her way. I may as well get on her best side as she must have friends in the Capitol with whom she can boast her portrait painted by her newest male tribute, who also may have the money to sponsor the artist in the games. But aside from the Hunger Games, I would also love to paint her as I have an idea for the portrait.

"Perfect!" she squeaks, clapping her painted hands together in joy, "I'll have an attendant find a canvas for you to use!"

The attendants soon return with a sumptuous looking three tier chocolate cake, at which point Effie has a quiet word with a female attendant almost assuredly about somehow finding a blank canvas for me to use. Before she leaves, I summon her over to me for a word.

"Would you be able to find another canvas as well as the one Effie wants?" I whisper in her ear, to which she curtly nods in response.

"Also, what is the name of that attendant?" I ask nodding my head in the handsome attendant's direction, to which she just smiles and taps her nose.

"Thank you," I reply more audibly, acting as though I had never asked the second question.

Both attendants disappear out of the room leaving those of us remaining to demolish the chocolate cake. Thankfully, Katniss now opted to use a spoon and act more civilised, still not speaking to either me or Effie. Feeling almost completely stuffed, I cut one final slice of cake, grab my fork, pick up my glass of fruit juice and follow Effie to the viewing room whilst Katniss trails along slowly behind me.

A large television takes up nearly half of the width of the train in the viewing room which has two double settees, one which is taken by me and Effie and the other filled by a still sulking Katniss. The television then begins to play the reapings one after another with minimal breaks but with commentators speaking over the top of the recordings. This must obviously the way that the Capitol citizens view the reapings as the individual districts wouldn't be able to due to the time that the reapings take to complete.

Only a few of the other district tributes stand out to me, a very confident looking fourteen year old girl from district two, accompanied by a monstrous eighteen year old blonde boy who volunteered even before the name of the intended tribute could be read out, a boy with a crippled foot from district ten, and horrifically a little girl from district 11 with deep olive skin who barely looks old enough to be eligible to be selected. I don't even remember eating the slice of cake or drinking my juice throughout the viewing but I must have done seeing as my plate and glass are both empty.

After seeing the reapings, I excuse myself to go and collect my painting gear from my room, and Effie follows my part of the way to her room to get changed into what she wants to wear for her portrait, which will probably be something just as colourful and harsh on the eyes as what she is currently wearing, but what ever she wears, my plan will still work.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey awesome readers, thank you so much if you've stuck with me from the beginning, I know I've been away for a longtime, holiday, work-experience, all of these thingstake their toll. I should have updated about chapters after my holiday but my iPad got wiped so I lost all of my books that I had written and my fan fiction :'(**

**Anyway, lots of surprises to come, I'm gonna keep you on your toes all the time once we get to the Capitol, don't presume to know what I'm going to write because I'm an evil person and I will shock you!**

**Peace and Love guys and gals x**

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Just as I'm picking up my piles of paints and brushes, the door is dealt three sharp raps from Effie whilst she says,

"I'll be in the viewing train waiting for you, it's through the bar and straight on."

I didn't think that her voice could get any more excitable and piercing, but somehow she's managed. Seen as she's so excited, I give her a five minute head start to give her chance to calm down a bit before having to sit still for a while. I can't just memorise the image this time, it has to be live and as perfect as possible for this to work.

After her five minutes is up, I make my way down the train towards the viewing cart. The train's corridors are more atmospherically lit now, most likely due to the time as it must be approaching mid-night by now. Upon entering the viewing cart, I see an easel has already been set up with a canvas already stood awaiting my brush strokes, the other resting against the wall. Effie is sat on a tall stool in front of the open back of the train, her paper white hair seemingly glowing in the bright moonlight shining in from behind her. She is wearing a black and white dress with ruffles in all of the wrong places, stupid amounts of lace draped anywhere possible, a comically tight corset with a large dress shooting out from the bottom. In her black lipstick and overuse of eyeliner and mascara she looks like some form of demon, but that must be considered attractive somehow in the Capitol. If only she knew how insane she looks.

"Effie, if you want anything to drink or eat throughout the painting, I'm afraid you're going to have to get it now because this may take a while." I warn her whilst I set about preparing my various thicknesses and strengths of charcoal provided by the assistants.

"Oh, I'm fine thank you Peeta dear, I've done this sort of thing before, but I'm sure at you will be the best so far," she throws what I'm sure was supposed to be a beaming smile at me, but it looks closer to a grimace.

Thankfully, the easel is wide enough to hold both of the canvases at the same time so I place the other next to the first and prepare myself.

"Okay, I'm just about to start, you'll be able to have a break after the outline but move mustn't move much then." I inform her, to which she simply nods in response and assumes an 'attractive' position.

Immediately I begin outlining on the first canvas, copying her features as carefully and perfectly as possible, catching as much of e moving scenery behind her as possible. That part is quickly done, now for the harder part. I begin picking her apart with my mind, splicing the small details together to make one picture; a faint strand of chestnut brown at the roots of her obviously falsely hair, her thin but full figure beneath the alterations, a deeper iris of green behind each eye's false nearly fluorescent cover. Piecing these things together, I begin outline the second Effie, the truer one, the one hidden behind the Capitol alterations. This is taking longer than I thought it would, as she has covered herself quite well, well enough for anyone with a less keen eye to be able to believe that she is this maniacally decorated doll. I finally manage to dress her in what I see as suitable clothes, and tell her she can take a break now, to which she shakes her head slightly, clearly eager to see the finished articles.

On the actual portrait of her I wash out the background with grey, layering one shade atop another, building up the depth of reality. I stick to the greys when I move to the thicker paints, making certain that I lock all of the texture into the painting as possible. I finish it off with the bright green of her false irises, and sit back to check it to reality. Satisfied that if caught her image correctly, I begin on the second canvas' wash, I add more colours and tones, understated but far more striking in comparison. A dark brown base for her now long, straight hair that is pulled back over one ear. A pale peach for her new skin, free of white powder. A dark grey base for her new dress without a onto the thicker paint, I add some shine to her hair, giving it layers of colour each very subtly different than its predecessor. Her lips now thinner and just barely more pink than her face, which is now naturally toned instead of its usual thick layers of powdered coating. A long, black feather earring hangs from her uncovered ear and falls just above the shoulder of her new, simple yet elegant, long black dress. I add a slight glimmer to the dress where it catches the moonlight, and I allow it to split on one side showing her crossed legs and one sensibly high-heeled white shoe. To finish, I add in the moon in the washed out grey background, the deep green of her eyes, and an electric blue primrose corsage on one wrist.

I finish both with something I've never used before; my signature, which is just a simple PM in the lower right hand corner. Happy with both, I begin collecting together my things and stand.

"Effie, please can you wait until I'm gone before you look at the portraits? You can tell me in the morning which you like the best." I request, not wanting a reaction to them just yet. With a confused but warm look she simply replies,

"Of course Peeta dear, off to bed, big big day tomorrow,"

I quickly dart out of the carriage and back to my room. At which point I just flop onto the bed and begin to dream of the weeks to come.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey amazing readers! We're finally arrive at the Capitol and this is where the fun begins, Peeta's really going to get out of his shell now, so stay tuned. I would also advisd any facebook people to like this story's page, just add /thepeetagamesff after the .com for a link. I should be adding authors comments on each chapter for my thoughts when I was writing each chapter along with links to each chapter and a short blurb for each. Later I may even add some of 'Peeta's' paintings which I'll have done.**

**Peace and Love guys and gals x**

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All too soon comes a rapping on the door again, followed by the shrill tones of one Effie Trinket,

"Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!"

It's then that reality hits me like a wall of bricks, I'm almost at the Capitol, it all starts today. The thought is enough motivation to pull myself out of bed and to the wardrobe. I can't really wear what I wore yesterday seen as I slept in it so it's all crumpled so I may as well make myself as memorable as possible exiting the train in an hour or so. The Capitol designed wardrobe has a sort of mirror reflecting myself back at me but in the clothes that I select, so I peal off the shirt and trousers to face the mirror screen. I soon choose some slim fitting black jeans that seem to be fitted to me somehow, an almost floaty white shirt which is very comfortable and falls just right across my body. I finish the outfit off with a sky blue primrose, which is pretty but false non-the-less, sat in my top left hand pocket. I don't bother doing my hair specially or showering yet seen as I'll be attacked by my prep team soon anyway. Leaving the room, the door frame engulfs me in a sweet smelling mist causing me to choke slightly.

Entering the meal carriage, I see that Haymitch is surprisingly sober and digging into his variety of meats, egg and toast. Effie, however, isn't present so I assume that she's waking Katniss which could end badly for all parties. I just take my seat next to our only victor from district 12, take a few slices of bread and a mug of hot chocolate, and that's when I see it, jammed into a small bin across the room: one of my portraits of Effie. I can't tell which one as only the moon is visible and I had painted them identically, but I can take a good guess that its my edited one. All I can manage is a sigh.

"Dressed to impress I see," Haymitch comments casually as I begin to dig into my breakfast.

"I suppose I'd be better off being as memorable as possible so that at least one person remembers my face," I mutter back.

"Well, well, I finally have an one who can think for himself!" he replies, turning slightly to grin at me, "Stand up and let me have a look at you then,"

I do as he says and Haymitch begins to circle me.

"You could probably go for the attractive approach," he mumbles to himself, "or the cute approach, and you seem likeable enough, and you seem intelligent,"

He stops his circling and stands directly in front of me.

"Kid, I think you actually stand a chance in this."

"Urm, thank you?" his statement implying that he's actually going to try and help me.

"Come on, we'd better eat, we don't want Effie on our backs, plus we'll be arriving within the hour."

We just wander back around to our seats and continue to feast on the vast array of dishes laid out for us.

"You actually remind me a lot of a tribute from my second year as a mentor," he mentions offhandedly, "you gay too?"

The casualness of his tone catches me off guard and I can feel my cheeks inflaming. This, coupled with no immediate denial causes him to turn to face me and burst into a thunderous laugh which soon subsides to a chuckle, at which point Katniss enters the car.

"Sit down! Sit down!" says Haymitch whilst waving her over to her place across from refills a glass of a fruity looking drink, which looks suspiciously alcoholic, and then drinks the whole thing. At this rate, he'll be completely incoherent by the time we reach the Capitol.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice," Katniss says to Haymitch.

"Here's some advice, stay alive!" he replies and bursts out this point something in me snaps, despite his earlier comments, it still enrages me that he will most likely be drunk for the entire games and therefore be absolutely no help to us whatsoever. My only response is to knock the newly filled glass from his hand, sending it flying at the wall where it smashes, sending the fruity red liquid everywhere. Haymitch's reaction is instant and he punches me square in the jaw, which knocks me straight off my chair. By the time I'm back upright in my chair Katniss' knife is embedded in the table between Haymitch's third and forth fingers which looked like they were on their way towards the jug of the alcoholic just leans back in his chair and flits his eyes between the two of us. I lean over and take some ice from a jug for my chin, to which he grabs my forearm and says,

"No, let the bruise show. The audience will think that you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena,"

"That's against the rules," I reply freeing my arm from his grasp.

"Only if they catch you." he responds with a carriage is suddenly engulfed in darkness as we enter the tunnel leading up to the Capitol.

"Listen up. We only have a few minutes before we arrive, but I need you both to do exactly what your stylists tell you, they're there to make you look your best." Haymitch warns us, to which we both nod in agreement and walk over to the windows to see the Capitol live for the first time in our lives.

The train emerges from the tunnel and seems to skim over the surface of a large lake towards the very literally shining city which is the Capitol. The stupendously tall spires of gleaming colours tower up to the sky, and the smaller but equally stunning building surround them. Entering the station I stop the photographers and cameramen and women awaiting our arrival on the platform. The train pulling to a stop, me and Katniss head to the carriage that we had entered through and wait at the door.I conjure up my most winning smile and prepare myself, where as Katniss just seems to adopt her most sullen look. The door slides open and we step out. A barrage of flashes hit us as we exit the carriage. I do my best to wave and smile to every camera as we are whisked off to the car. Once in the confines of the vehicle, Katniss turns to me with a scowl on her face.

"What was that!" she growled.

"I was being memorable," I reply not even looking at her as we are flying down the paved streets of the Capitol city towards the remake centre.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey there awesome readers :) another addition to the story :P there will be a few changes in the next chapter though, so watch out for them! I feel even more inspired to write now after watching my Hunger Games DVD about 4 times in the last two days so I'll probably be updating more, but I have just got back to college so who knows!**

**As always, follow, favourite and especially review as I love to hear what you guys think of the story :)**

**PPeace and Love guys and gals x**

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Upon our arrival at the remake centre, me and Katniss are quickly split up. I'm just herded down a well lit corridor by three very brightly coloured people, that I can only assume are my prep-team, to a large room with a table like object for me to lie on surrounded by a great multitude of different items all supposedly to make me look more attractive but really just look painful.

"Oh, your going to look just fabulous! Wait until you see what Portia's got for you!" purrs one of the two females in my prep-team, her Capitol twang accenting syllables in the wrong places and ending each sentence slightly higher as if she's asking a question.

"Shush Leporis, we've got a lot of work to do with this one," the only male other than me in the room says in an equally flamboyant and high pitched voice to the woman called Leporis who has very pale leopard print on her skin, mixed with very cat like eyes.

"Oh Flux you're no fun! Anyway, just hop out of those filthy clothes and jump on the table." tweets the other woman as she wanders around to the other side of the room, her azure hair bobbing up and down slightly as she goes.I of course do as Haymitch had suggested and followed the order, removing the Capitol made clothes until I just stood in my briefs and made to get on the table.

"Not so fast honey, those too," Leporis purrs happily with a wide grin.

I just stand there. I don't want to just be naked in front of these people! They don't need to make anything down there look good for me! That is unless this Portia is doing what the stylists did a few years back and just had the tributes naked but covered with black powder.

"Chop, chop! We haven't got all day!" chirps the other woman again.I slowly oblige, throw my briefs aside and lay on my back of the table. They descend immediately hosing me down with extremely powerful jets of water, all the while gossiping about completely irrelevant things, like seeing such and such a body and such and such a body's party wearing such and such a thing. After a good half an our of power washing my body, they move onto this very intrusive gritty foam, scrubbing my skin with it to remove the coal dust from my pores. Fifteen minutes later they move back to hosing me down again, washing away the now grey foam. My skin feels raw but looks like its almost glowing after the attack is finished.

Next they move onto hair. Leporis is now bathing my hair in some form of weird slippy liquid, whilst Flux and the other woman, Althea, begin flattening strips of material onto the tops of my legs. A few seconds later, a searing pain shoots through my legs as what feels like a full layer of skin is ripped off each leg, which results in me jerking up to see whats being done to me. Flux and Althea are just holding a strip of material each, both of which are covered in blonde hairs from my legs.

"Oh calm down, it's not that bad!" whines Althea in her birdsong voice, as they both apply more strips.

"Sorry, it just startled me." I lie, the pain was actually excruciating and unexpected, and I quickly learn that that doesn't change.

After a good half hour of leg, arm, back and chest hair removal, I'm allowed to put on a robe and sit up, both of which I do eagerly. The skin all over my body is tingling and cold from its sudden removal of hair. Leporis now begins styling my hair as Portia must have requested and Althea starts filing my nails down so that they are uniform shapes. Flux just takes a hand full of cream and spreads it all over my jaw, mouth and neck, basically anywhere that there's facial hair and then touches two small metal rods to the cream. I feel the tickle of a small electric current pass through my face.

"There, now you won't have to keep shaving in the arena, or for a while afterwards if you make it through," he squeaks in his piercingly high voice?

"Think yourself lucky, you get to keep some body hair, all of the girls loose theirs," he adds drawing my attention to the fact that I still have armpit hair and pubic hair, but everything else is gone.

They are almost finished, so I can see a good opportunity for some possible sponsors. They can't sponsor but maybe if I can make them like me a bit then they might have friends who can.

"Thank you so much for this, I know it can't be easy dealing with all of us filthy people every year," I say to them in the most genuine tone I can muster, and all of their faces just break into smiles, even Flux who seems to dislike me the most.

"Oh, no dear! You're quite pleasant compared to last years." Althea reassures me.

"And less filthy too!" Leporis juts in, both of them finishing off their jobs, whilst Flux begins to clean up the tools.

"I suppose your not as horrible as I thought you were going to be," he squeaks still smiling from my thanks.

"Right, we're all done here, Portia with be in soon, just take off the robe once we've left," Althea chirps as they wander towards the door, and they're soon gone.

I shed the robe as they'd said and just sit thinking of my prep team. It is so hard to hate them for being from the Capitol, they're too much like little children, so innocent in a sense that they don't seem to understand why they're doing what they do. I'm quickly torn from my thoughts as the door opposite the entrance swings open and a tall graceful woman in a long, elegant, pale silver dress strides through the door. She looks completely unlike any stylist I've ever seen in the games, seemingly unaltered, and not trying to stand out the most. I stand up to greet her with a hand shake, completely forgetting my nudity, and then I just stand for her to examine me. It's a few minutes of wandering around me, examining every aspect of my body before she speaks.

"Okay Peeta, you can put your robe back on now." she says delicately in a barely recognisable Capitol accent, "you'll have to forgive the prep team, I know they can be abit irritating at times." I quickly don my robe and walk over with her to two seats that seem to have appeared out of nowhere.

"So, for the tribute parade, we are to dress you in the clothes of your district trade, or something along those lines. Now in the past as you know, there have been many different variations of the miners clothing and coal, but this year, me and Katniss' stylist Cinna want to do things a bit differently," she says softly, sounding more like a friend than someone suiting me up for the slaughter.

"All I want, is to be memorable," I inform her, in the hope that she won't send us out naked in coal dust. At my comment, her eyes twinkle slightly.

"Peeta, we're going to make it so even if they want to they can't forget you. What do we do with coal Peeta? We burn it. Your a baker aren't you," to which I nod, "so how do you feel about fire?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey fantabulous readers :) The real Peeta Games are about to begin, so in the next few chapters, stuff's gonna get really interesting ;) I'd love to hear what you think of the story so far, so if you have the time, either drop me a PM or review :) thanks guys.**

**Peace and Love guys and gals x**

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"We also have to sort something out. When Katniss volunteered, that instantly got her a lot of attention, so even with your costumes, she will stand out more. So to give you a fighting chance, we intend to deflect some of that attention to you in the middle of the parade," Portia explains with varying degrees of Capitol twang but all still very minimal.

"Now let's get you suited up."

I'm soon standing in a glittering black unitard that covers me completely from neck to ankle. I have thin strands of white material threaded through my hair which has been pulled back and styled to look as if it's blowing in the wind behind me but frozen in place. The costume is also twinned with a long cloak which falls over my left shoulder but doesn't quite reach my right, making it look like its being pulled to one side. The cloak seems to be made of the same material as the material as is in my hair and is paper white. Catching my reflection in the corridor long mirror, I see that my skin actually appears to be glowing slightly gold and I can see the faintest traces of glitter on my face too.

As me and Portia enter the room where we board our chariots and have our final adjustments, I finally get a proper look at the other tributes. A couple of the more out lying districts are already in their chariots waiting to go, whereas the more central districts and of course the career districts are all still getting ready as their costumes are usually the most intricate. It's surprising though how many heads turn as me and Portia walk across the room to the district twelve chariot, I even catch one or two careers checking us out. I suppose my districts costumes are never this interesting so it's a noticeable change.

At the chariot, another woman and mine and Katniss' prep teams are already waiting for me, but there's no sign of Katniss, her stylist or Effie. Come to think of it, I've not seen Effie since I did her portrait, I must have offended her or something. It's then that the woman standing with the prep teams turns to face me. It takes a second or two to digest the sight, but there's no doubt that the woman is Effie. She is dressed in a long elegant dress identical to the one I painted her in, with the addition of a small handbag under her arm. Her hair is no longer a bleached white curled wig but a natural dark chestnut colour that has been straightened perfectly, and her face no longer looks deathly white but instead a wholesome skin colour with very little makeup whatsoever, save a dash of eyeliner.

She is wearing a massive smile on her face as she sees me and quickly walks to meet me and Portia halfway which is actually now possible now that she is wearing more sensible heels too. When we meet, she just pulls me into a tight hug for a minute or so before she pulls back looking straight at my eyes.

"Thank you so much for the portrait Peeta, it is perfect! I actually understand why you did two now, to get me to choose who I wanted me to be," she burst out in a surprisingly reduced accent, momentarily shocking me,

"I showed Portia the portrait and had her replicate the dress exactly as you had painted it, and as well she's giving me wardrobe tips and helping me reduce my accent too, all because of you Peeta!"

Effie actually looks like she's about to explode with excitement, whilst around us other escorts, mentors, stylists and prep teams who must have known Effie slightly were muttering between themselves, exchanging shocked looks and wide eyes. We however just continue on to the chariot where Katniss and Cinna are now both viewing the commotion that Effie caused. I can see that Katniss' costume is virtually identical to mine except the strands in her hair and cloak are orange not both clamber into the chariot, and begin to receive shed loads of tips and comments regarding how to go about the parade. To sum up, we are to hold hands for effect and hold them high above our heads, blow kisses, and wave profusely. As the district one chariot sets out to a roar from the Capitol crowds, we both turn our attention back to how we are supposed to stand for the duration of the parade, whilst Cinna and Portia hold two rods that are on fire.

"Right, we're going to light your cloaks just before you're about to set out so it doesn't give the game away too soon," Cinna informs us, provoking an immediate response from the two of us.

"You're going to set us on fire?!" we both squeal at him and Portia, but quietly so as not to alert the other tributes to the plan.

"Yes, don't worry it's fake flame so it's safe but looks real," Portia assures us, but I still have my qualms with this plan. I end up saying nothing else as I remember what Haymitch had said about doing what the stylists say.

District eleven is soon setting off, so Cinna and Portia light our respective cloak hems on fire, causing them to burst into flame and ignite the material in my hair. True to their word, the flame doesn't burn, and actually isn't even warm, it just tickles slightly. With a jerk, our chariot begins to roll out onto the large street for the parade.

The crowd instantly catches sight of us and releases a large variety of screams and cheers as we heard down the street. We lock our hands and try to stay standing. Caesar Flickerman's voice can be heard clearly booming over the crowds,

"District Twelve!"

At the mention of us, anyone in the audience who hadn't seen us yet also began to scream and shout at the sight of us burning away. I quickly recover from the initial shock and raise mine and Katniss' interlocked hands high above our heads and begin waving to the crowd who is going crazy at the sight of us. Katniss soon recovers too and follows suit, to a round of cheers for her. Quite soon all that I can hear is the sound of thousands of voices cheering Katniss' name which is a bit disheartening but understandable. After about a minute of this cheering, my flames suddenly burn ten times brighter and turn a brilliant electric blue. I can see in the screens that this illuminates me far more than before and far more than Katniss already is. Suddenly the crowd is cheering my name even louder than they cheered Katniss' before hand, to which I respond by blowing kisses to the audience which they actually try to catch as if they were tangible objects.

Upon reaching the city circle, we loop around it and join the other chariots facing President Snow's mansion. The President stands and gives a small welcome and the traditional welcome speech during which it is also traditional to cut to the different tributes faces on screen. However looking up at the massive screens, it is clear that me and Katniss are getting the most air-time, and as it gets gradually darker, we continue to burn drawing even more attention to us and away from President Snow.

They soon cut to the anthem and all of the tribute chariots enter the training centre. Even though we are the last district to enter anyway, the camera seems to be focused on the two of us the entire time until the doors slam shut behind us, locking us in.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi guys, I know I'm a terrible person for not updating sooner, but I'm back at college now and back to worrying about university. To cut e story short, i've not been sleepinwe'll so late nights writing aren't the best but nevertheless here is the next chapter, enjoy, review and follow.**

**Peace and love guys and gals x**

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Almost immediately after the large doors close, my prep team descends completely unintelligibly babbling praise for my performance and for Portia and Cinna's designs. Portia literally runs to the side of the chariot with a small spray which she uses to put out the electric blue flames in my hair and comprising my cape. As soon as I've been extinguished, she grabs me and pulls me into a tight hug.

"You did magnificently! I wouldn't be surprised if you've got sponsors lined up to talk to Haymitch already," she complimented, but I know that it was all her doing.

"No Portia. You've designed the most amazing costume I've ever seen at the games!" I respond, returning the praise.

Effie greets me soon after Portia, gushing over how she just knew we would be a huge success ever since she met us on the stage yesterday. As I clamber down from the chariot, my cloak flowing behind me, I catch sight of a few dirty looks being shot our way. Even the careers weren't bothering themselves with their own prep teams and mentors, but instead glaring silently at the two of us. Most terrifyingly of them all, I see the boy from two with a snarl on his face, burning straight into my eyes while his gladiator costume is being dismantled. I'm soon pulled away from the distraction by Haymitch, who has finally arrived, putting his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into a side hug as we begin to walk to the elevator.

"Great work kid, keep it up and you just might stand a chance," he says, his speech partially slurred, but without sounding completely drunk.

The many eyes from the other districts follow our group to the elevator which is immaculately reflective brushed metal. Effie touches a panel on the wall, sending us to the twelfth floor exceedingly quickly. All throughout the short journey, there is the constant flamboyant drone of the two prep teams still gushing over our performance and costumes, probably just packing as much in before they have to leave us. The elevator opens directly into the living area.

The penthouse apartment is almost completely open plan with floor to ceiling windows in place of a few walls. The different levels of the open area separate what would normally be individual rooms, like the dining area is elevated above the soft seated area which is in turn elevated above the television area, which is just couches angled towards a plain section of wall dividing two of the obscenely wide windows. The borders of the areas are lined with twisting sculptures and exotic looking plants mixed with one or two silent and subtle water the living area, there are four barely distinguishable doors to the tributes', mentor's and escort's bedrooms.

"One of the few perks of being district twelve, you get the penthouse floor," Effie sighs in her new accent as she walks to the dining table. I follow in search of something to drink. It's surprising how wearing flames can dehydrate you. I pick a large glass jug of sunset coloured juice and pour a glass for myself before I head in the direction of my room seen as it has been quite a long day.

"Peeta, I'll be in to talk to you in a minute or so, and to get rid of your make up," Portia says in a chirpy voice.

"Okay Portia, come in when you want to," I reply though I'm not overly sure what she wants to talk about. I tap a small glass panel that says 'Peeta Melark' next to a door causing the door to slide into the wall revealing a short corridor which opens out into my whole room is bigger than my house is back in district twelve! A floor to ceiling window gives me a widescreen view of the Capitol city surrounded by massive mountains unrivalled in height by any of the towering Capitol spires. The more than double bed has been placed in the centre of the room, very slightly depressed into the floor, and is overflowing with varying sizes of cushion and silk fabric all in varying shades of grey. The room is very open with lots of free space. A large panel of frosted glass separates the walk-in shower along with a toilet and a bath from the rest of the room, providing privacy whilst still being part of the room. There is a wide wardrobe which seems to blend into the wall, in fact, the entire room just seems to blend together due to the not quite monotone colours of the room.

I only just get around to perching on the edge of my bed, being careful not to damage my costume at all, when Portia enters almost silently. She joins me on the side of the bed and pulls me into a big hug.

"You are going to be magnificent Peeta. You are going to be unforgettable." she says calmly."Thank you Portia, I would have no hope without you," I assure her with a warm smile.

"That's very kind of you to say. Now. I really want to talk to you about the interview." she says, in a suddenly very business like manner.

"But the interview isn't for another four days, shouldn't I be more focused on training before then?" I respond slightly confused.

"Of course you should be more focused on training for the next few days, I just want you to have some input into what angle you play and therefore what you wear for the interview." she clarifies for me.

"So I was thinking, seen as we have already cover the shock of fire, I think we should cover ice next. You are a very naturally likeable person Peeta, but I think you should assume a cold stance too. Obviously, you dislike the Capitol, and so do I. How about you give them a bit of ferocity and frostiness as well as your natural personality? The crowd will love it! Just that hint of defiance which will make you look even stronger than I'm sure you already are." she relays in almost a whisper, probably due to the mention of defiance and dislike of the Capitol.

"That sounds just right for me Portia, I'd love to give the Capitol a hint of my disgust," I respond in a similar tone to her.

"Great! I'll inform Haymitch after dinner, but first lets get you changed." perking up slightly after the more serious side of the conversation is over and done with. Within no time, I'm once again naked waiting for Portia to chose me some clothes to wear. She returns from the wardrobe with at least six or seven different outfits.

"These are the clothes that I would suggest you wear for training and for meal times. Starting with underwear, for training, you should wear this type of sock as they help support you ankles so that you don't get an injury, and this type of briefs as they for one keep everything secure and will help show you off a bit." she says with a cheeky wink which makes my checks heat slightly.

"For dinner times, for which to be honest it doesn't really matter what you wear, there are a variety of designer undergarments in the drawers in the wardrobe for you to choose from. In terms of general clothes for training, this outfit is what you will be wearing every day. The fabric I made it out of helps to remove sweat as quickly as possible and allows you to have completely uninhibited movement, plus I think you'll look very sexy in it." she follows with another wink.

"Portia, why are you making me attractive for training, I'm sure they'll all still want to kill me just as much." I ask still slightly embarrassed from the underwear comment.

"Peeta, you are already very attractive and attractive people get more sponsors. If the other tributes find you attractive then they'll assume that you'll get more sponsors and be more willing to make alliances with you in the games. Plus you've got to have some fun in what I'm sure won't be but still could be your last days not in mortal peril."


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi guys and gals, I'm really sorry for not updating in like ages but stuffs being happening that I really needed to sort out, sorry. But I'm back now and should be updating more regularly :) I really really really want to know what you think of the Peeta Games so far so any reviews or PMs are exceedingly welcome as I've missed hearing from y'all.**

**Anyway enjoy, review and follow. Much love guys and gals x**

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"Thanks Portia, I'll be sure to dazzle everyone with my sexiness and stuff, and thanks for the clothing advice. By the way, is there anything we can do to have the room less... grey?" I ask seen as I don't want to be depressed by the constant monotone for the few days that I'll be here.

"Of course dear, there should be a glass panel in one of the bedside drawers. You'll be able to choose colours and even customise your own furniture. If you can draw it, which I bet you can, it'll be made and installed for the next time you come in the room." Portia explains clearly eager to see what I can do with the room.

"I supose I should milk the Capitol for all it's worth while I'm still here." I respond with a wink and a smile which Portia returns.

"That's the spirit hunny! Now, I need to give you a very quick introduction to makeup, just to make sure you can look your best all of the time," she says before leading me off to the luscious en-suite bathroom where she gives me a flurry of makeup advice for a natural but attractive look. After a good half hour of makeup tutorials, she whisks out of the room to prepare for dinner suggesting that I do the same as I 'only' have an hour.

It's surprising how different she can be from the regular Capitol people whilst being so similar at the same time. I could never spend an hour getting ready to eat so instead, I quickly change the colour scheme of my room to match on of the sunsets in my sketchbook and pull out my paints. Effie must have pulled some stings before I got here because whilst searching for the glass control panel, I found a brand new blank sketchbook and box of paints with a small not on the box reading, 'for my new designer'. I'm assuming that it's a message from Effie so I open the box and spend a couple of minutes just examining the many shades of colours that it contains.

Not wanting to waste any of my remaining time in peace, I grab a fancy glass filled with water and my favourite paint brush and I start preparing twenty three backgrounds in the small book. I only just manage to do this before I realise that I only have fifteen minutes before dinner and I feel almost obligated to look my best after the help and advice that Portia has given me. This place, it's almost like it doesn't allow you the time to be calm and think for a second.

I pick out a thin, slim fitting, white polo shirt and another metalic orange slim fitting shirt to wear ontop of it. The arms are quite tight but they just emphasise the musculature of my arms from lifting the flour sacks back home, and it's pretty tight on my stomach so it shows the outlines of my six-pack. I also grab some slim black jeans which make my arse more pronounced but are a bit tight on my thighs, but it's a good tight. Moving to makeup, I only apply a light layer of foundation which makes my skin glow slightly, and I add an exceedingly thin line of eyeliner just as Portia had suggested. An application of lip balm and a clear nail coat later, I'm just infront of the mirror.

Infront of me stands a boy closer to being a man with straightened, longish blonde locks pushed to the side of his slightly glowing face. The metalic orange shirt with its thin lapels which join just below the white polo shirts buttons seems to shimmer with every slight movement. I actually almost forget that the person in the mirror is me I look that different, but it's good different. It's surprising how long all of my dinner prep took as I'm not almost ten minutes late, but at least I have something to show for it.

Exiting the room, the lights fade out behind me until the room is in complete darkness. I stride across the living area and up a few steps to the dining table which sports a large feast (by district twelve standards) and is surrounded by Portia, Effie, Haymitch, Katniss and a man who must be Katniss' stylist Cinna. Unfortunately due to my lateness all ten eyes follow me round the table to the empty place next to Cinna in utter silence. Effie is of course the first to break the awkward silence.

"Well if this is how you look without Portia, then with her you'll have every woman's heart in the Capitol before you even start the games!" she exclaims with a girlish glint in her eye and a nudge of Portia's arm.

"Nice job boy," Haymitch offers with a thumbs up before returning to demolishing his just gives me a quick wink and a smile which I can't help but return imediately. Even Cinna speaks up,

"If you'd been born in the Capitol I'm sure you'd be a revered stylist by now," he contributes with a warm the exchange Katniss is the only one to stay silent. She just continues to eat her dinner whilst shooting me the occasional look which I can't decode. Soon though, it's seems that Haymitch can't stand the looks he keeps catching from her and he snaps at her,

"Sort your face out sweetheart, no-ones going to sponsor a sour faced moody child no matter how well dressed up she is next to that kid," pointing his fork full of meat at me, "so you could probably do with taking a leaf out of his book sooner rather than later."

She initially looks wounded but soon recovers from her moody state and becomes barely more sociable than a dead squirrel for the remainder of the meal, but at least she's stopped sending me looks. Instead they're directed at Haymitch but he just seems to ignor them.

A pretty good dinner if you ask me.


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry sorry sorry sorry! I know its been a while since I last updated but I had stuff. Just stuff. Well this chapter is the stepping stone to the excitement picking up at last! Read, enjoy, review and I'llI update again very soon. Peace and Love guys and gals x**

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A multitude of exotic looking cakes later (including many literally fiery sauces), dinner was over and so I excused myself to my room to continue with my painting and relax.

I simply flop backwards onto the supremely soft bed, sinking deeply into its folds as I go. Once propped up against the wall I grab my control panel for the room and tap the clear screen. Upon doing so, a list of commands slides up from the lower right hand corner of the screen. I select the 'Room Design' option and the corresponding 'Colour Scheme' option from the drop down menu. It asks me to hold it up to the colour that I want or select a colour from a range so I hold it to my shimmering orange shirt in the hopes that it will capture the correct tone of orange. To my surprise sections of my walls, pillows and bedspread are now all independently shifting though the different variations of the orange on my shirt. Other sections and parts of the pillows and bedspread also change colour to shifting yellows, reds and pinks until my entire room is just one magnificent sunset.

Pleased with my work I almost begin my painting when I hear a knock at my door. Immediately an image of Cinna at my door pops up on the control panel along with the option to open the door from the panel, which I ignore. I instead stand and walk to the door which seems like the more polite thing to do. I straighten out my clothes in the tall mirror next to the door before opening it to the smiling face of Cinna, a man who was born into the splendour of the Capitol but openly rejects his inheritance by wearing only simple black garments with the only Capitol taint being the hint of gold eyeliner which brings out the gold flecks in his eyes perfectly.

"Hi Cinna, would you like to come in?" I ask knowing instantly that I wouldn't mind whatsoever.

"Sure Peeta, thanks," he responds with a courteous smile and follows me into the room which I soon realise has no chairs, just the bed at the moment.

"I apologise for the lack of furniture, I haven't had time to design anything yet," I offer.

He doesn't seem to notice, as he looks more interested in constantly shifting sunset that adorns the room.

"This is beautiful Peeta, I don't think I could recreate this if I tried," he says recovered from his awe.

"Thanks Cinna. Is there something you want to talk to me about?" I ask, blushing from the compliment but quite curious as he is Katniss' stylist not mine.

"Erm yes there is," he responds taking a seat next to me on the edge of the bed, "I wanted to talk to you about Katniss for a minute."

"Okay," I reply, slightly confused, "fire away,"

"Look, she doesn't really like you. There's not really a nice way to put that. But this puts a bit of a hole in mine and Haymitch's plan," he says, all the while not giving me direct eye contact.

"Plan? What plan?" I ask even more confused than before now.

"Well, we were thinking of shipping the two of you as a couple, for the sponsors mainly, but I think it would be too strenuous and a lot of work to maintain."

"Oh, well its fine by me if we scrap that plan because, to be fair, I'm not that keen on her either. What did Portia think of your idea?" I ask, feeling relieved that I'm not going to have to pretend to be in love with anyone, though Cinna looks slightly uncomfortable with my question.

"Well Portia thought that even though it was an okay plan, it wouldn't suit you at all. And when I asked why she just said, and I quote, 'Oh Cinna, Peeta is far too pure to lie like that to the whole of Panem. I also think there may be a problem with Katniss' lack of penis.' "

I simply can't help but burst into hysterics! Half because I can just imagine her saying something just like that, and half because she could read me like a book; she didn't need to ask, she just knew. After a couple of minutes I've calmed down enough to notice that Cinna has managed a wide grin.

"Oh Portia, you babe!" I say to no-one, "She's really got me down to a tee after less than a day,"

"I'm glad you found it funny and not insulting, but two words of advice; steer clear of Katniss for now as she sees you as a big threat at the moment; and I wouldn't let it get out that you're gay, the rest of the tributes will just think they can walk all over you." he says, visibly more relaxed after my reaction.

"Thanks for the advice Cinna, I'll make sure to stay out of Katniss' way, but as for the gay thing, these are my last days in safety before I'm carted off to die, so I'm not going to hide, I'm going to stand tall and proud. If anyone has any problems with that they can just expect a fifty kilo bag of flour flying at their head." I respond with a large grin.

"Well I can see that you're ready for training then!" he says as he gets to his feet,

"Knock 'em dead Peeta," and with that he sees himself out leaving me sitting on my bed trying to process the conversation properly in my head.

After no time at all I've got my book, paints and charcoal sticks to continue with my evening when a window pops up on my control panel. The message simply reads:

'Try the roof. Portia'

So, seen as I've not started anything yet, I gather all of my things into a plain satchel from the wardrobe along with my control panel, pull on some gloves, a scarf, a pair of sleek looking boots, a very unsymmetrical jacket and grab a glass of water. Feeling ready for my mission to the roof, I head out of my room, through the lavish living area which is completely empty and into the brushed metal elevator. Pressing the 'R' on the elevator panel, I'm shot up one floor to the roof. The doors slip into the walls revealing a large garden area with palely glowing white paths winding thought the expanse of luscious foliage, one of which I follow around to a wooden slated area that overlooks the Capitol in all of its conformist beauty.

It's clear to see that there's a party in the streets tonight most likely in our favour, but none of the noise reaches me up here. Ah, the magical technology of the Capitol. I'm very glad that I grabbed the gloves and scarf as the breeze up here is pretty cool, probably due to the cloudless night. I take refuge on a sculpted metal bench next to a glass table on which I empty the contents of my bag. Soon I'm filling each page will a basic outline of every tribute except for me. Some faces I can see more clearly than others, like I can remember the hot looking blonde tank of a person from two very clearly but the average looking girl from nine I have no clue except for basic features.

After a good hour or two, about half of the faces are drawn in, but the cold is starting to get to my face a bit, so I think it's time for some hot chocolate. Picking up the control panel and removing a glove, I navigate through the list of drinks options until I find the creamy beverage and confirm for it that I am indeed on the roof before sending the order off.

Barely a minute later I hear someone approaching through the foliage so I call out when I hear footsteps on the wooden slats without turning seen as I'm mid brush stroke.

"Thanks, please can you leave it on the smaller table? Thanks," I say, just as I finish the painting of the girl from two.

"Leave what?" I hear a deep, rich and slightly deadly voice reply.

At hearing this, my head shoots up from the book and around to face the six and a half foot tall boy from two, Cato.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey guys and gals, I'm sorry its been a while since I last updated but I want to get this chapter right, which I'm not even sure it is but oh we'll. I hope you enjoy it, from my mind to your imagination.**

**Also a big big big thankyou to both MangoMagic and Anonymous Me for their respective reviews, I'm glad you're enjoying what I'm writing for you, and I hope to hear from you again soon :D**

**Peace and Love M x**

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Through some miracle I manage to keep a mask of indifference towards his arrival.

"Oh, it's you. The blonde bimbo from two. Yay, what a delight," I sarcastically drawl at him.

I can't believe I actually said that, to him of all people, that was actually quite cold which I suppose is better than just melting in front of him. His jaw visibly sets accompanied by his hands forming tight fists.

"Whatever twelve," he replies in a gritted tone which makes it painfully obvious that he's never been talked to like that before.

It's only once he's meandered over to the furthest bench and turned away from me that I let out a grin. I think I could have a lot of fun with this one, he seems very highly strung. I suppose it's not the wisest of ideas to aggravate the biggest threat in the arena just a few days before the games but, honestly, I don't really care that much.I've known since long before the reaping that I would have no chance if I was ever unlucky enough to be chosen, so I've actually accepted the very high probability of my death in the next few weeks. Like Portia said, I am going to try and enjoy as much of this time as I can, but all the while making sure that I stay me and don't become some Capitol puppet along the way.

"Excuse me Mr. Mellark," interrupted the Gale-like voice of the attendant from the train causing me to turn to face the man, "I have your jug of hot chocolate and mugs for you,"

"Thanks, please can you just set them on the smaller table, that would be fab," I respond with a winning smile, to which he replies with a low bow, "Would you like to join me for a mug? I mean, would be allowed to?"

After a couple of seconds thought to process the abnormal request, he replies,

"Sure, thank you Mr. Mellark," along with a wide grin.

"Oh please, just call me Peeta, you can drop the Mr. Mellark," I correct him with roll of my eyes and a tiny giggle. He precariously takes a seat next to me on the bench making it ever so obvious that he had never really been acknowledged on this level by any tribute, stylist or mentor before.

"My name's Phox by the way. I heard that you'd asked on the train," he said, poking me in the arm playfully whilst winking causing blood to rush to my cheeks.

"Well, yeah, I thought you were quite good looking so I wanted a name for the face, so to speak," I explain softly, slightly embarrassed by saying out loud, nudging him back.

"Oh did you now! To be fair, I did go away after our first interaction on the train thinking you were quite hot," he whispered slightly seductively while his arm subtly crept onto the back of the bench behind me.

Well, that's new, no one's ever called me hot before.

"Really?"

"Really. I..." he trailed of, consulting a watch type device which had a small message on it.

"I'm really sorry but I have to get back to work, I'd love to do this again sometime, maybe?" a note of hope in his voice shines through warming my heart, ensuring that no other answer could be given than,

"Yes, of course! I mean I'm not going anywhere for the next few days and it'll be nice to get to know each other," I confirm genuinely with a very wide smile, "I'll have to order a small picnic tomorrow or something,"

"Sounds perfect," he almost sighs in relief, allowing a smile to spread across his handsome features, "Well, I really need to head off now. I'll see you around,"

And with that Phox heads off with his trolley back in the direction of the elevator. I know exactly what my next painting is going to be of now. It feels like the smile is permanently plastered on my face which I can feel glowing. A harshly honest voice in my head pulls me back to reality however, _I can't afford to get too attached to someone so close to the games_. Even though the voice is speaking completely perfect sense, I somehow find a way to fight it. _I only want a friend to talk to for once_. Which is partially true, but I know deep in my heart that I want something more than a three day friendship.

"The hell is wrong with you?! You'll flirt with an attendant, one of the lowest positions in the Capitol, who isn't half as hot as me but you won't even have a civilised conversation with me," comes an aggressive whisper from the other side of the deck, catching me slightly off-guard.

Surprisingly, I had completely forgot about Cato's presence on the roof until now. What's even more surprising is the boy from two's tone, one of insult and frustration. Well I suppose being as good looking as he is, no one back in two would think of looking at someone else when in his presence, and I'll bet he assumed that everyone else in the Panem is just as shallow as he is.

"What? You're jealous of him? What do you want me to say? I'm sorry I hurt your obviously massive ego by not flirting with you?" my voice settling halfway between rage and sarcasm.

"Jealous of that piece of trash? In his dreams," he drawls but slightly to quickly making the response seem forced.

"Then why interrupt my thoughts just to inform me that for some mind numbingly obvious reason I should be flirting with you? Well done, you've just ruined my evening. You know if you let your ego rule you like that, the you're just going to end up pushing away everyone." I inform him whilst packing my things away and picking up my mug of hot chocolate.

"My ego doesn't rule me twelve, I just understand that I'm better than all of the rest of you here and should be treated as such," he replies confidently, but there's just something in his tone that tells me that he's forced himself to believe those words.

"And that's your biggest mistake two, the minute that you put yourself above others you automatically lose their respect for you. So you and your ego have a good sleep and I'll see you in training." I hiss, turning on my heals and heading for the elevator.


	16. Chapter 16

**Heya guys and gals, soorry for not updating in like ever but life has been so hectic recently, what with my uni application going in and coming out to my parents (and the onslaught that came with that) but I read should be bringing you much more material by next week.**

**njkang2: well, you'll just have to stick around and see woncha ;) x**

**MangoMagic: I'm glad you liked the chapter and I hope you enjoy this one :) trust me, the attendant has some relevance as we'll see in the next chapter or so. I love reading your reviews btw :) x**

**Peace, Love and Enjoy peeps x**

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The path back to the elevator seems more winding and overgrown this time, at least more than I remember anyway. The elevator is taking an age to arrive, and unfortunately in that time he has caught up to me.

"Right, why won't you flirt with me but you'll flirt with an attendant?" he asks in a calm and curious tone that I didn't think he would be capable of using.

"Well, for one, even though you're hot, you're, from what I've seen tonight, an utter dick, where as Phox has been nothing but nice. Two, you're a career who volunteered to be here, he had no choice. And three, we're less than a week away from the games, do you really think I'm going to want to flirt with someone who will probably end up killing me?" I reply calmly but I can tell that my irritation is shining through.

"What if I promised not to kill you?" he mumbles.

"Let's just entertain the thought that I trust you enough to believe your promises, then you would still be a bastard who chose to come to a fight to the death, and where is this bloody elevator!" I could really do with calming down but there's just something about Cato that sets my teeth on edge.

Surprisingly, he has no response. He just stands there with a look of confusion on his face. I'm tired and ready to sleep on my new Capitol bed which is sure to feel great so I give up the anger and calm down slightly.

"Anyway, why are you so hung up on whether I like you or not? Its guys like you, back in twelve, who would beat me up if I just looked gay, let alone flirted with a guy." I question him, becoming more aggravated but intrigued by his answer the further into my sentence I get.

For the briefest of moments, I think I catch a glint of vulnerability in his deep blue eyes.

"I guess I just don't understand how freaks like you think." He quips with a snarl that doesn't quite hide the pain in his eyes.

Screw being calm! I feel my jaw set, my hands form fists and my eyebrows narrow. Thank God for the elevator arriving and distracting me momentarily. My anger I abandon on the roof along with the Career and jump in the elevator before I do something stupid. As the doors close I see Cato's smirk deteriorate to a look of despair and in that moment, I see him; just another normal boy who's slightly different, screaming at the world because its the only way he can cope with his pain. I instantly regret being angry at him but somehow I can't force myself to go back to the roof now. I will apologise tomorrow for my getting irritated by him but I can't let myself slip; after all, I'm going to be fighting to the death with him in just a few days.

The elevator can't reach my floor quick enough, but before I know it I'm dashing to my room trying to stem the flow of tears that I can't yet explain the presence of. My bed comes up to greet me as I fall face first into its silky folds, my bag falling to the floor as I drop. Instantly, all of the emotions that I've suppressed throughout the past two days come flooding back to me in one big feeling of rejection from my mother, the contentment of my time with Gale, the exhilaration of the parade, the anger at Cato, the fear of the looming games, but also a sense of empathy for Cato. I do and don't feel sorry for him, I mean he did choose to be here but, somewhere, hidden not to far from the surface is a massive level of insecurity that seems so out of place in someone as menacing as him. Urgh, why is tonight just revolving around him?! I don't even like him! I think, urgh, my brain is so tired, maybe I'll just sleep.

Despite my efforts at sleeping, it's almost 2:30 by the time I'm drifting off, filled with thoughts of the next four days and the horrors to come after them.


	17. Chapter 17

**Hiya, I'm updating alot sooner than I thought due to having alot of inspiration to get into the chapters after this, so here it is :)**

**abugsaunt: thanks for the speedy review :) I'm glad you're liking my fanfic so far :P my drive for actually continue came from reading your fanfic, 'The Games We Played' the other day :) anyone reading this should sooooo check it out, it's insanity but amaaaazing, :D thanks for reading and reviewing x**

**Peace, love and enjoy guys and gals x**

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A thin slice of sunlight pierces through the floor to ceiling window illuminating the large room and waking me from my sleep. I only remember glimpses of my dreams, though enough to know that a few involved the career boy from two and a couple included Gale. Even those glimpses are quickly forgotten as I rise from the silk folds of my bed still completely dressed in my clothes from last nights excursion to the roof which are quickly shed. Half-asleep, I somehow manage to clamber into the shower unscathed and press a button initiating a steamy spray of blueberry scented water to cascade through my hair. At the press of another button, the shower blow-dries me, but doesn't seem to dry my hair properly.

Once cleansed by the shower I move to the wash basin to brush my teeth, but, before even grab a brush, I see that my teeth are just as pearly white and clean as yesterday leading me to think that my prep team my have done something without me noticing. That reminds me, oh, yes, true to his word, Flux has eliminated my need to shave.

With no cleaning left to do, I move to apply the makeup Portia had suggested with a Peeta twist. I work a pale gold cream into my skin for a good five minutes which gives it a similar slight golden sheen to when my prep team did the body polish and also removes the pale shadows under my eyes. I then set to work neatening my eyebrows slightly by removing any stray hairs and then apply a thin line of eyeliner. Moving now from Portia's suggestions, I add an almost clear layer of glistening red lip balm, which is faint enough to go unseen but enough to highlight my lips just slightly.

Moving back into the bedroom I see that the bed has been made and a small, black device is lying on the bed with a small square not attached to it;

'_For your hair: make sure your hair is still damp, touch the two prongs to any two parts and press the red button. Portia x_'

I follow the instructions from Portia. I feel a slight shock pass through my scalp and all my hair seems to de-knot and dry itself at the same time in addition to it all standing completely vertical.

Still following Portia's advice, pull on the briefs and socks she had suggested followed by the training clothes that are indeed tailored perfectly to my body. I remember before I leave for breakfast that I have yet to style my hair and so I head back to the bathroom where a lone tub of gel sits with another square note reading;

'_I'll leave this up to you. Portia x'_

Just quickly running a small amount of the glittery gel through my hair to spike it all and leave it sparkling, I head out to breakfast, almost colliding with Effie at the door who was most likely coming to wake me.

"Well! You look stunning this morning Peeta! Go and enjoy your breakfast, it could be a while before Katniss emerges." she says in her new de-capitalised accent, before scuttling off to wake Katniss.

Already at the table and well through his first course is Haymitch who, surprisingly, is drinking a non-alcoholic fruit juice.

"Mornin'," he grunts in my general direction before continuing to shovel down food as if he hasn't eaten in a week.

I take the place opposite him, pour myself some of the tart smelling fruit juice, and fill my plate with different breads, meats and mixed fruits. Everything here tastes so full and rich that it almost becomes sickly but with the tart orange-pink juice, it becomes easily manageable to eat a double help of the stuff before Katniss even turns up. Once I've taken my fill, I decide to talk to Haymitch for a bit seen as Effie is most likely wrangling up Katniss still.

"So, do you intend on drinking yourself through these games?" I ask as nonchalantly as I can manage whilst still sounding serious, in response to which his brow furrows in concentration.

"After a chat with Portia, I don't think it would be wise as she did threaten to hang me from the balcony of President Snow's mansion by my genitals." he replies curtly.

I simply can't suppress my laughter so it just bursts out anyway, and thankfully after a few minutes he cracks a genuine smile. Effie arrives soon after with a slightly bedraggled but awake Katniss who is plonked down next to me.

"What was so funny then?" Effie chirps whilst serving herself some fruit.

"Oh, it was nothing, just something Portia had said to Haymitch last night," I reply brightly.

"I think I know what you mean," she says with a wide grin, "well, onto the schedule. You will be training today and for the next three days, then on the third afternoon, you will have a private session with the Gamemakers and the evening of the same day, you will have the interviews."

"Right down to business then," Haymitch chips in sounding very sober but tired, "First of is the training, would you like to be coached separately or together?"

"Separately," Katniss snaps imediately, to which I respond,

"That's fine by me,"

"Great. More work for me, but it is your choice," he says with a grimace, "Peeta, let's have a little chat on the sofas while sweetheart here finishes her breakfast."


	18. Chapter 18

**Heya guys and gals, its update time! I apologise for the length but the next chapter after this is gonna be very long so itll make up for it :) Let me know what your thoughts are so far by reviewing please :)** **A big thanks to all those who have reviewed 'the Peeta Games' so far, it means so much to me that you would take the time to do so :')**

**MangoMagic: sorry! I hadn't seen your review of chapter 16 before the update :( but yes, Peeta was a bit harsh and Cato did respond well but we'll see why later... ;) hope you enjoy this chapter x**

**abugsaunt: Haha I love your enthusiasm :) yes! Peeta will be diving into the training very very soon :) indeed Portia is extremely wise, And I think I make Katniss a tad too bitchy because I don't like her in the books ^.^ looking forward to hearing what you think of this chapter x**

**Peace, love and enjoy readers x**

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Me and Haymitch head for the main living area where we both sink straight into the luxurious sofas quite comfortably.

"As I had said on the train, you could easily go for the attractive approach or the likeable approach, but after a chat with Effie, Portia and Cinna, I would suggest that you take the mysterious approach, but of course it's up to you." he states eyeing me from underneath his furrowed eyebrows.

"I was actually thinking of doing a mixture of the three, if you think that would work." I propose, already having accepted that he will probably pick one for me anyway.

"I suppose that could work." Haymitch replies giving himself a minute or so to think, "You already seem to fit the attractive approach checklist anyway so that won't need much work, you're already naturally likeable so that's perfect, the only thing we'll need to work on is the mysterious approach. What would you say your hidden talent is?"

"I can lift about one hundred kilos, maybe one hundred and fifty if I really push myself," I answer with a frown realising how little I can do practically in the games compared to the other tributes.

"Okay, so stay away from the weights section until the Gamemakers assessment, but if for whatever reason you end up there, pretend to struggle with much lower weights than you're capable of so as not to give the game away too soon," he suggests seeming moderately content with the extent of my 'talent', "as for the other sections, stick to survival areas like snares, fire and edible plants, seen as you probably won't know that much about those. Any other time you have training, try hand to hand and hand held weapons but you should be good with them seen as you're strong."

He breaks to take a sip of the glass of tart juice that he must have brought with him, I just hadn't noticed.

"You may as well have a go at the ranged weapons station, you may not be very good but general use can be handy if you need to take out a tribute from a short distance away. At the camouflage station, excel, but only to a certain extent. From what I've seen, you could easily vanish into the walls, but try not to do that well." He finishes with a frown as if trying to remember if he had forgotten anything.

"So, basically, where it's new, try my hardest, if I'm already good at it, try not to look too good?" I summarise for him.

"Precisely. At lunch, you'll be eating with the other tributes, so attempt to make some friends, if you want to, if not, the just flirt. I would say stick to the girls but Cinna told me about your conversation last night, so if you want to go after the guys then by all means do so, but watch your back,"

Haymitch then turns to look at the table where Katniss is sat waiting for us to finish up.

"You can head on down with Effie if you're ready to. I've got to deal with sweetheart over there for a bit," he says sourly with a wince and a nod in Katniss' direction.

"Thanks Haymitch," I say whilst rising from the sofa gracefully and straightening out my clothes.

Walking up past the dining area, Effie appears out of nowhere and links her arm with mine as we walk to the elevator.

"You'll have to tell me how it goes later and if there's anyone that catches you eye," she says in an almost Capitol tone accompanied with a wink that I can't help but mirror.

The elevator arrives just in time for us to reach it and so we begin our descent to the training level. As we descend I can't help but feel a bit nervous at the thought of training with those who will be trying to kill me, and me them, in less than three days. Thankfully it mustn't show on my face as Effie doesn't notice anything and starts telling me how I have dozens of potential sponsors already lining up to sponsor me. In what must be the last ten seconds of the journey I remember that I have yet to apologise to Cato for last night, the boy from two who haunted almost every single one of my dreams last night.

The elevator comes to a halt and the doors slide open revealing a short corridor that seems to open out into a larger room. Before I can set off, Effie grabs my arm and pulls me into a hug.

"Make sure you are memorable and remember to smile," she whispers in my ear before pulling back, beaming at me.


End file.
